Cheating at Solitaire
by Exilo
Summary: Prelude to "Reconstruction". On a nameless planet, the Covenant is pushing its way closer and closer to humanity's last refuge. The humans are just desperate enough to do something stupid. Really, really stupid. Read and review please. They make me happy
1. Chapter 1

**Just to get everything out of the way, all character ownership can be found at the profile "Reconstruction Franchise". Dedicated to my friends, but specifically Misterr B, Niata, and PrettyChief, who's characters make up the protagonists.**

_Chapter 1_

"Gunnery Sergeant Jordan Curelski. You are one lucky son of a bitch. Fifty nine minutes into your golden hour before you got here."

Jordan sighed and shrugged. Of course, they should say luck. Not strength, not spirit, just luck that kept his heart beating after a Hunter ripped Big Daddy's shell open, and stabbed Jordan in the chest with what was left of its shield. Just dumb luck, nothing more that kept him alive. That pissed him off.

"Got a flock of Pelicans and managed to push the Covies back. Someone heard a man and found you. Carried you to safety. Braland or something. You should say 'thank you'."

"I'll get right on that," he said passively. "How goes the battle?"

"How do you think? Covies marched right into Barr. Razed the whole fucking city. We're in York now. Last refuge. Once they take this, it's over. All we can do is evac as much as we can and hope some ships get through. Not looking good though."

Jordan reached onto the side table and took the bottle of water. He drank it down in a few gulps.

"You can walk?"

Jordan looked at his chest. He was heavily bandaged, but bones had been set and filler used to close the wound.

"Put your boots on the line kid."

"Fine, where's the hanger? I can get Big Daddy moving within the hour."

"Big…Daddy?"

Jordan swung his legs to the side and off the bed. "My Cyclops. Where is he?"

"We don't have any of those outdated, high tech coffins. Armory is three buildings down. Get a rifle."

Jordan stared. "Where is Big Daddy?"

"We don't have a fucking Big Daddy or Tin Daddy or a Little Debby. Get to the fucking armory, put your boots on the line, and get ready to fight. Covies will probably wait till tomorrow. Regroup and smash us full force. I want you armed and armored by seventeen hundred." The doctor turned to tend to other wounded. Jordan groaned, putting his feet on the ground and wobbly standing up.

***

Exilius sighed, kneeling to one knee and setting his hammer down before him in a common show of respect. "Noble prophetess, I am proud to report the battle continues to move in our favor."

The Prophetess of Wrath sighed to herself. She did not enjoy seeing Exilius like this, groveling, but she was not the one forcing his actions. No, blame for this spectacle lay on the broad shoulders of Sangheili Field Master Crolunee, who stood to her left. He was the highest coordinator of the human's eradication on this planet, having taken the campaign over from Exilius some time ago. He had wanted Exilius removed completely from this planet's operations, but Wrath had convinced Crolunee to leave the chieftain as field commander. That way, they could hit the humans from multiple fronts. Exilius' position as Wrath's bodyguard was not a secret, but their friendship was. So, certain images had to be maintained. Exilius and Wrath could not talk as they would have liked. They maintained and image of servant and master for Crolunee's eyes.

Clearing his throat, Exilius continued. "We pushed the heretics far and have them corned in their last refuge. We will clear the way for the planet's bombardment tomorrow."

"Why did you not finish the humans off today? Give them the opportunity to regroup."

"My men were tired, hungry, and cold," Exilius said casually. "I deemed it a better choice to stave the human execution for the time being, regroup, and crush them easily at first light. It was my choice sir, and I will take the responsibility for any ill that rises from it."

The field master nodded. "Then see to it that your men are taken care of. Tomorrow we will end this battle."

Serving under the field master did have its benefits. For a moment, Exilius' eyes passed to the other side of the room. Clad in her black armor, stood Priya Kanlaee. Admittedly, he did have a problem distinguishing Priya from the other stealth Sangheili (the field master's personal guard), but he took note of the (lack of) height, as well as the unique metal blade carried on the back instead of the energy sword hilt on her thigh. He probably only imagined she gave him a tilt of her head, but he took comfort in the thought. With Wrath and Priya, this mission was certainly tolerable.

There were other positive aspects to this operation. Exilius rather enjoyed leading lances and battalions in grand wars, instead of smaller operations or serving as bodyguard. And one could not overlook the value of trophies.

As the humans tucked tail and fled like scalded Unggoy, one of his Kig-Yar lieutenants came threading and scurrying over the battlefield and to Exilius. It seemed that one of the Mgalekgolo was berserking, and had killed several Unggoy and Kig-Yar unfortunate enough to have fallen under his trampling feet. Exilius did not enjoy killing that Mgalekgolo, but after losing its bond brother, it wouldn't stop lashing out. Besides, from what little Exilius knew of Mgalekgolo, it was a mercy killing to aid the two in joining in the afterlife. He had an Unggoy deacon say a prayer.

Then he wandered across along the battlefield to survey his successful campaign. He came upon his new trophy only because he had been called to that area of the battlefield. Just by chance, his eyes stumbled upon a rather large shape against the otherwise barren and rocky landscape. There was a lump of armor, surrounded by strewn corpses, and a noticeable whiff of methane from several leaking Unggoy tanks. These…Exilius was not sure what to call them. Sort of like Mgalekgolo, only humans replaced the worms inside. Regardless of his lack of name for this thing, Exilius did remember it. This one in particular. Earlier in the war, they were very common, but by recent times they seemed to have mostly died away. Still, the drill on the hand marked this particular suit of armor as unique, and to Exilius familiar. He smiled, and ordered a dozen Unggoy to bring the armor's remains to his quarters, where it now resided, where he could enjoy it in peace.

***

Gunnery Sergeant Nick-047 was easily recognized for a variety of reason. Being a Spartan-II, his armor and impressive height lead to a long shadow and lasting impression. Further, he could be distinguished from other Spartans by his armor's appearance. The color, instead of the standard olive green; wore a dull and faded red. The trim was white, with occasional blue. The helmet was the designated CQB variant, having a rough "T" shaped visor with ample cheek guards, and reinforcements on the top.

Most of the soldiers backed to the walls of the hallways when he approached. Fear was a common expression for Nick to see, the other was disdain. Nick-047 saw a bit of both those emotions as he stood in front of the commander of this base.

"Gunnery sergeant," Commander Rejwan said. "I trust you are prepared for your next assignment?"

"Yes sir," Nick said simply.

"This planet is lost, gunny. This is the last base. Once this place is leveled, the Covies will have the freedom to do whatever it is they want to do. The most we can hope is salvage. Salvage anything. Fortunately, whatever god is still listening decided to give us this bit of intel. Seems there is some sort of Covie big shot overseeing this campaign. Your job is to capture it, and bring it back."

The commander slid a video file over the desk.

Nick-047 took it. "I understand sir."

"Whatever we have left is attacking the Covenant base an hour before dawn. Should give you the needed cover. You'll be going in with a squad of four –IIIs. Standard smash and grab. Well, as standard as it can be with aliens."

"Sir, any platoons that go against a Covenant base are going to be slaughtered."

"I do not recall asking for your input gunny. This is how the operation will go. We will bomb the base with what we have, and destroy their shields. Once they are down, you go in, get the prisoner, and it's all done."

"Every soldier that goes against the Covenant is going to die."

"I'm aware of that gunny, and if they stay here and wait, they are going to die. Perhaps you have some confusions about how the war is going, gunny. We're not fighting for land, we're fighting for time. And this is a big chance for us. This is a miracle, that we know about the big shot at all. Your squad is waiting in the barracks."

After saluting, Nick-047 left, entering the hallway. As usual, the humans scrunched to the side as he passed.

***

"Lieutenant Broeland, something wrong?"

Azula shook her head. "No doctor, I'm fine, thank you. That pilot though, the mech pilot, that I brought in. How is he doing? I think he must have been hit pretty hard. Whole time he was out, he wouldn't stop talking about how much he loved his Cyclops."

"Lieutenant…you haven't heard? He's gone."

Azula sighed. "Just another for the funeral pyre then, huh? Waste of time, evacing him."

"No…lieutenant. He's gone. I mean, he escaped."

"Escaped? To where?"

"We don't know. That's why he's gone. He was delusional, shouting about his father. We gave him a sedative. Apparently not a strong enough one however. He pulled out his IVs and, as near as we can figure…jumped out the window."

"But we're two stories up…" Azula held her head. "The soldiers are having last drinks instead of getting ready, there are monkeys with magic hammer leading the assualts, and now a sergeant with a machine fetish is AWOL. What is it about this planet, the water?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

A military base is designed to keep people out, not in. "Yankee Foxtrot Bravo" as this base was called, was simply a common place for humans to regroup and attempt another attack on the Covenant war machine. It was all that stood in the way of the city of York and the Covenant. Sentries had been erected, and ships were ready to fight for the first moment the Covenant came over the horizon. There was a hastily erected outer barrier: barbed wire fencing around the perimeter to form a bit of a no-man's land, and one check point at the north side, manned by two men. "Gunnery Sergeant Jordan Curelski," said one of them.

It hadn't been hard for Jordan to get here, all things considered. A long sleeved shirt and body armor covered the IV marks on his arms. A helmet covered his tired eyes. "Just going on patrol. Commander Rejwan's orders."

The guard merely gave the identification another skim and then gave it back. Jordan didn't have four mandibles, nor was he breathing methane, so he didn't call too much interest from the guard, who waved him out. Jordan looked to the GPS at his side, and the soft beeping. "I'm coming Big Daddy."

Wordlessly he drove, eyes a bit tired, body a bit achy, but he kept his foot on the gas, even though once or twice he dozed off. When his car started to swerve and bump furiously he was shaken awake and slapped his face a few times to keep his blood flowing.

Reaching the last place Big Daddy's GPS beeped, Jordan pulled the Warthog to a stop and climbed out, taking the assault rifle in hand. It had been so long since he had actually used a rifle like this. Back in basic, he was laughable, trying to hit a target of an Elite, which was twice the size of the human targets and he still missed. But he didn't have Big Daddy now, so he would have to make do.

There was an awful stench on the battlefield from the wide range of rotting bodies. Here was the Hunter he had managed to kill, before he blacked out. But no Big Daddy. And it wasn't like a ten foot tall suit of armor was difficult to spot. He sat down at the jeep, thinking of going further forward. Maybe…maybe he hadn't blacked out when he thought he had. Maybe he had kept forward, against the Covenant, and Big Daddy was just over the hill. And if not, maybe over the next. Jordan started the Warthog, and pressed on forward.

***

When the human scout was discovered so close to the base, Field Master Crolunee ordered his personal guard to capture the human, alive. They had waited for the human to pull his vehicle to a stop and climb out and inspect his surroundings. Approaching, they easily overpowered him before he could get off a shot, knocking him unconscious with a powerful punch to the head. Taking him back to the base, they imprisoned him in the brig. Field Master Crolunee wanted to be alerted immediately when the human came to, but the Prophetess of Wrath relieved the guard and waited, alone, in the brig. Curious as she was, she wanted to be the first to see him, before the field master had a chance to interrogate him.

Jordan, who had been thrown onto the floor, woke with a very loud groan and soreness all over his body. He struggled to all fours, and the collapsed, and lay there. His head was throbbing. It felt like there was a knife through the crown and running back to his spine.

Wrath put her hand over her mouth and gave a soft giggle. "Human," she said. "Would you like me to summon some Unggoy to aid you in standing?"

The human twisted onto his back and sat up. That was a mistake. If he was in pain before, this was simple agony. He managed. "You can speak?"

Wrath again gave a soft giggle. "We put a translator in your ear. We've all got em. We cracked your language a long time ago."

Jordan stood, and walked to the fourth wall. A barrier of some sort. He pushed his hand to it and with passive interest, and found it as solid as a real wall. "I am Gunnery Sergeant Jordan Curelski. That is all I am at liberty to say."

"Oh relax. I'm not going to interrogate you. That's the field master, or the chieftain's job. Neither know you are awake yet, so we've got this nice time together. Oh? Where are my manners? I am the Prophetess of Wrath."

"…Wrath?"

"Yes, it was father's thought. You should have seen me before I _matured_. I was quite a rambunctious tyke."

A bit confused, Jordan gave a passive nod. "Ma'am," he asked softly. "Have you seen my Cyclops?" What harm did that really do? What UNSC secrets could he betray from such a humble question?

"Syke-claps?" the prophetess asked

"He's like a suit of armor. My suit of armor. I was trying to find him, when I was captured. Is he alright?"

"Exi has a war trophy in his quarters…it was intact last I saw it. Probably better than intact now, actually. The Huragok are fascinated with it. Exi keeps chasing them out of his room, and they just come right back."

"Big Daddy is alright thought?"

Wrath nodded slowly. "Assuming that is…uh…Big Daddy."

Jordan gave a deep sigh of relief, and moved back to the far wall. "Keep him safe, will you? Can you do that for me?"

"Human, I am not sure I should do anything for you…You are the enemy after all. Though I must admit, you are quite enjoyable to talk to. I get so bored sometimes. None of the lower ranks will talk to me, since they are afraid of me for some reason. And the Sangheili and chieftain are always out fighting."

Jordan pulled his legs up, and stroked the heel of his boot. "Would you kindly take it as a last request from a dying man?" With a brush of his fingers, the heel of his boot popped off, to reveal a small compartment. Jordan took out a handful of pills. "Standard issue, in the event of capture. I take it the Grunts searched me, not the Elites."

"Human…"

"What's one more body? One more drop of blood on your hands?" Jordan put his lips to his hand and tilted his head back. He crunched the pills in his teeth, and breathed deep. A moment later, he was on all fours, vomiting sticky crimson mixed with bile upon the cell's floor. Then he collapsed onto his side.

Wrath stared at the spectacle, mouth agape, eyes wide. For a long while, she didn't move. She just stood there, stupid. Regaining her senses, she typed a quick code into the control pad and the fourth wall shriveled away. She rushed in, rolling the human onto his back and shaking him furiously.

Jordan clenched his fist and swung, hitting Wrath in the snout, and knocking her onto her rump. He stumbled to his feet, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and out of the cell. He pounded the keys of the controls furiously, and either randomly hit the right sequence, or the computer locked itself down. All that mattered was the fourth wall rose up, sealing the cell closed.

There was a pleasant amount of fear in the prophetess' eyes. Jordan found himself smiling. There had to be a sequence to gas her, one to make the cell hot, one to make it cold. Covenant loved torture. But Jordan didn't have the time to figure any of the sequences out. But she didn't know that. "Where is Big Daddy?" he asked. "Talk, or I will kill you. There must be any number of things to release in there."

Such fear. Prophets could feel fear. There was something wonderful about that. She felt such fear, so visible in her eyes. She swallowed lowly and said; "Down the hall. Uhm…left out the door and down the hall. Three hallways. A room around there. Somewhere down there. That's the personal quarters wing. Important prisoners are here, so they are close should anything happen. Exilius' quarters, that was where the big armor thing was."

Jordan smiled and tipped his head mockingly. "Thank you," he said mockingly. Turning, he hurried out of the brig.

There was an eerie silence in the halls. Covenant didn't seem to like lights too much, leaving it dim, so if Jordan had to he might be able to hide in a shadow and allow a passing patrol to wander by. But there weren't any patrols. Sometimes in the distance he heard squeaking or heavy hooves on the ground, but then nothing. He assumed the Covenant who were here were either sleeping or out doing whatever it is Covenant did during their down time. He found himself alone, at least until he was almost three hallways down and something that looked like a jellyfish came floating around the corner. Jordan lifted his hands. He had gone through basic, and been taught how to fight even if he never managed to get any belts of recognition. But he could fight at least if he had to. The jellyfish made a noise at him, but then turned and floated the opposite way down the hall, then it stopped at a door. With one tentacle, it typed at the control pad, and whisked inside. Eager to get out of the open, Jordan followed after.

The first thing Jordan noticed was the uncomfortable heat inside the room. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, moving deeper inside and letting the door close behind him. The jellyfish deliberately floated to a corner, and finally floated before the Cyclops that had a trophy place by the wall. With its tentacles, it started to poke and prod and stroke Big Daddy.

Jordan pushed the jellyfish out of the way and put his hands over Big Daddy, looking for dents or scratches. Yet there was nothing. Last Jordan had seen his mech, its whole front had been ripped off. Jordan had assumed that it had merely been patched so the trophy would look better, but no. It was fixed, beyond anything superficial. It was sealed and welded on tight and proper. The jellyfish, not to be deterred, floated over and began stroking Big Daddy's drill arm, giving it a good polish and nice sheen.

Jordan opened Big Daddy's cockpit and climbed inside. "Uh..." he muttered, looking to the jellyfish. "Thanks. I feel like I should tip you or something. Can you even understand me?"

The jellyfish made an odd sound. It lifted its tentacles, and started to close the cockpit. Oh, it felt good to be inside. Safe inside his armored suit. And he spent a moment just enjoying that safety. Then, the door to the quarters opened, and a Brute came shuffling into the room, giving a low roar that sent the jellyfish floating away.

It took a few moments, but something about this Brute was familiar. Little things that Jordan probably wouldn't notice in the heat of battle, but now (the Brute didn't seem to realize where Jordan was) he could really stare. The deep green shade of his armor, the youthful brownness of his fur. But it was the hammer on his back that really synched it. That hammer that had ripped Big Daddy apart and nearly killed Jordan. Rather than the machete sort of thing with other chieftains' hammers, this one had a scythe like blade on its back. That scythe that Jordan remembered having cut through men like they were tissue paper. Jordan remembered this Brute all too well. The chieftain took that hammer off and set it down, passively looked to Big Daddy, then sat down and began to work on what Jordan took to be some sort of Covenant computer, his back to the mech.

Jordan grinned widely, and slowly brought Big Daddy's systems on line. "Never look a Brute in the eye when you can stab him in the back." Perhaps not a motto Jordan would live by, but quietly as he could he started to move Big Daddy forward. Of course, it was still pretty loud, fso the Brute heard. After turning to see Big Daddy moving, perhaps he realized there was a human inside or just thought some failsafe had been activated. Either way, the Brute dove for his hammer, as Big Daddy's drill began to spin and Jordan charged forward.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

In total, there were ten Scorpion tanks, four Pelicans, twenty-two Warthogs (ten with anti-vehicle gauss canons and the rest with anti-personnel turrets) and around two hundred marines, armed with an assortment of weapons that were too varied to bother listing in anything lower than the official report. Those soldiers and vehicles were the distraction, and there was little hope that any were going to survive. But that was how this war went. The Covenant had numbers, technology, and tactics. Humanity had to go in with a near zealous willingness to die for the greater good. Unlike the Grunts, who cowered with fear in the face of battle, these marines would go down fighting tooth and nail. But in the end, they were only a distraction.

Nick-047 found himself driving a wide loop around the advancing army. After the Pelicans dropped the tactical bombs onto the citadel, projections showed the shields would shrivel and the attack would commence, with the main army assaulting from the front. Nick-047 and his Spartan-IIIs were to attack from the side. The hope was that all the Covenant would go to meet the decoy platoon, and the Spartans would face less resistance in trying to secure the "target". The target was all that mattered. If every human was killed but the target was delivered safely to the LZ, this would be a rousing success for ONI.

Nick-047 didn't think about that. He thought about his squad. There were five in "Feral" squad, not counting him, with those soldiers divided into Unit 1 and Unit 2. Unit 2 was in the second Warthog, trailing behind him. Unit 1 consisted of him, "Mongrel", and "Wolvy". Damien, or Wolvy, was sitting in the back of the Troop Transport Warthog. He was around 5'8", wearing black armor like all of Feral squad. Over the sides of the large, round bowl like visor, he had painted several orange and red flames as a personal touch. Mongrel was sitting beside him, with an SMG in her lap. She was around five feet tall and, like Damien, she was wearing black body armor. Her helmet had a smiling white skull across the face. Or was it meant to be a demon's laughing grin? Perhaps she had something there, looking so monstrous, giving the Covenant a real face to fear.

Nick-047 checked his HUD as they reached the target citadel, getting readout on the bombing Pelican's position. "Squad two, this is Falcon," Nick-047 said into his radio. "Package will be delivered in ninety-seconds. You'll have to keep the roads clear while we evac _Papa_."

"This is Sparrow, understood."

Twenty seconds to the bomb's dropping. Nick pulled the jeep to a stop. "Commander, this is Sierra-047. We are in position. Give us an hour in total to reach the LZ."

"I'm aware of that gunny, I've got a feed through your helmet's camera," came the general's voice. "Commencing attack Zulu."

Nick-047 watched the four Pelicans charge forward from the veil of twilight and into the glow of the Covenant base, quickly gaining altitude. They had gone low and fast, hoping to avoid Covenant radar, then climbed like hell to drop the bombs. Command had imagined the Covenant wouldn't ever think the humans would attack, and so would be taken off guard by something this brash, this flashy. They were right, and they were wrong. Three of the Pelicans weaved through the automated defenses and dropped their payload. But one was shot down. The crew probably died instantly. Nick sighed. The Pelican spun out of control and smashed into the citadel. Along with the bomb, it made quite an explosion. So, Nick supposed, they had served their purpose just fine. With the other bombs, the citadel's shields flickered and strained. Nick held his breath, and exhaled in relief as the shields melted away. What would have happened if predictions had been wrong? If the shields had managed to hold? It would have been just another failure on humanity's part.

"We're Oscar Mike!" Nick shouted, revving the engine. "Hit them hard and fast."

Rather than the overall boxy shape of UNSC bases, the Citadel consisted of one grand building at the center, with smaller buildings surrounding it. Intelligence said the target was in the temple; easily marked as it had a floating spear in the middle of it.

"Squad two, hit the Covies from behind. Tear through them." With a somewhat out of place "Yee-haw" the second Warthog twisted. Foxtrot, who was on the turret, opened fire, mowing through the little ones. The Warthog itself rammed into the bigger one that was leading the lance.

"Wolvy, we need a door."

Nick-047 pulled the Warthog to a stop near the temple's side wall. Wolvy leapt off the turret. He took the pack off his back, as he went to the side wall and set the bomb to explode. Nick-047 climbed out of the Warthog and took cover at the other side of the vehicle. Wolvy came beside him, but Mongrel just sat in her seat. With an annoyed growl, Nick-047 grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back, just as the bomb went off.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?!" Nick screamed, holding Mongrel off the ground by the arms. She didn't lift her head. She just stared at the ground, hanging limp in his grip. He gave her a slight shake.

"Better to just leave her sir, she doesn't much talk," Wolvy said. "She fights good though. And the door is open."

Nick sighed and set her down, and pulled the two magnums from his belt. "Mongrel, cover the rear. Wolvy, second position. I'll take point. Keep it tight. If it has mandibles or a beak, shoot to kill."

***

The Brute charged, ramming into Big Daddy's middle and driving the mech back into the wall. Said wall broke, and the two tumbled into the hallway and finally stopped against the next wall. Bid Daddy's drill hand lifted and swung down, smashing across the Brute's back and sending him to his knees.

Big Daddy was handling better than ever. Something that jellyfish did, Jordan assumed. The controls were more responsive, the strength was greater, even the speed was a bit sharper. It was like Big Daddy was fresh off the assembly line, only with no lag or stiffness in the joints.

There could be little doubt that Jordan was winning the fight. He had managed to disarm the chieftain of his hammer, which should have won the entire fight but the chieftain had been brilliantly parrying the drill with his combat knife, avoiding fatal wounds, but there were several gashes over his armor. The chieftain ducked beneath a thrust of the drill, and the drill embedded in the wall. The chieftain spun the knife, getting a better grip to stab it into the cockpit, but Jordan just managed to move Big Daddy's other arm to catch him at the wrist. They struggled against each other, trying to overpower. The Brute's eyes opened wide as, inch by inch, Big Daddy began turning the blade the other way. "Never fought someone stronger than you, huh?" Jordan asked with a grin.

The response came in the form of a snarl, and the chieftain thrust his head into the cockpit's visor. Large cracks ran through the visor as Jordan pulled the mech back, to avoid another hit like that. The chieftain turned and hurried down the hallway, hoping to reach his quarters, where he had lost his hammer.

Turning a corner, Chieftain Exilius took two magnum shots to the chest. They were stopped by his armor, but he took three steps back, before charging and crashing into the Spartan that had shot him. Nick-047 moved with him, and rolling onto his back, used momentum to throw the Jiralhanae behind him. At this moment, Jordan turned the corner, but ground the Big Daddy to a stop.

The Spartan rose to his feet, and popped several shots at the Jiralhanae, who merely continued running. "Get out of my fucking way," Jordan screamed, pushing past the Spartans to follow after the Brute, but the Spartan used his own weight and strength to avoid being shoved.

"You have other things to worry about soldier, we need to capture the prophet who has…"

"Two halls down, second door. The brig. She's locked in a cell. It's idiot proof." Nick-047 pressed to his side to avoid the trampling feet of the mech.

"Get after the prophet, gunny," came General Rejwan's voice. Nick-047 clenched his fist, and punched the side of his helmet, sending the radio dead. He paused a moment, then ordered Wolvy to follow after the mech, as he pulled Mongrel along to the brig.

***

Actually, Wrath wasn't scared. She had taken her "captivity" in stride, and was merely waiting in the corner for Exilius to come and free her. Oh, he would have such a laugh, but it would be over soon enough. She could probably order him to stop laughing, Wrath mused, though she doubted he would actually listen.

She smiled when she heard the door open. She stood and walked to the barrier, ready to take her scolding from the chieftain. But instead... "Oh no…No, no, no."

Wrath tried to back away, but her baggy robes found there way under her feet, and she fell onto her rump.

The Demon gestured to the controls. The much smaller Demon at its side worked at them a moment, then the fourth wall melted, and Wrath had nowhere to go.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

"You getting tired?" Jordan asked.

He wasn't get tired per se, but Big Daddy's power levels were starting to wane, and despite all the advancements that jellyfish had made, Big Daddy still had limits. The Brute didn't seem to be doing much better. He was panting like a dog, body covered in wounds and gashes in the armor. He was bleeding from several areas, teeth had been knocked out and his mouth dribbled with fluid. He gave a low roar, hoisting his hammer and charging forward, swinging, and caught Big Daddy in the side. Big Daddy stumbled, but twisted, smashing the blunt side of the drill into the chieftain's side and sending him far over the ground. Then he lay still. Jordan grinned widely, pushing Big Daddy forward. When in range, he dropped a foot onto his chest. The chest armor cracked and whined under the weight. Jordan pulled the left arm back, turning the drill on to drive it down through the Jiralhanae's head, when several fat, blue plasma orbs hit Big Daddy's visor.

"God, do you fuckers ever fight alone!" Jordan screamed, piloting the Cyclops back and swinging the drill. The Sangheili ducked the horizontal swing and took up a stance before the chieftain, holding the plasma rifle out in front of her. "Fine, you want the furry bitch, take him. I'm leaving." Jordan moved Big Daddy backwards, slowly moving out of the room they were in. Rather than following, the Elite squatted down, brushing its free hand over the chieftain's face. Jordan checked Big Daddy's HUD and opened a radio channel with one of the UNSC handlers. "This is Gunnery Sergeant Curelski, I am in the Covie base. I repeat, I am in the Covie base. What the fuck is going on?"

"Curelski?" came a familiar, accented voice. "This is General Rejwan. What are you doing in the Covenant base?...Never mind. Listen to me, Seirra-047 is in the base, retrieving a prisoner. You are ordered to help him however you can. I need that prophet taken out, and brought to the LZ."

"General, I've got to get Big Daddy out of here. He's barely holding together.

"Curelski, that is a direct order. Locate Sierra-047, and if he's dead, locate the prophet. Get it to the LZ. I'm sending you the coordinates."

Jordan clenched his hand and smashed it into the radio on the top left side of the cockpit. "Sorry general, but didn't get that last order."

Still, the halls were mostly empty. That was always a huge relief. If any Elites wanted to pick a fight, he was not completely sure he would be able to kill him. As he walked, he passed one of the Spartan-III. The Spartan had been stabbed through the stomach with the Brute's knife during that battle. The knife just went straight through the chest plate and into the gut. "Poor little guy, this was a heavy weight fight. You should know when to let the big people are talking to just stay quiet and out of the way." He looked down the hallway. The Elite nor the Brute were coming after him. "If you didn't get stabbed you probably would have been stepped on." He sighed, picking the Spartan-III up and carrying him effortlessly along as Jordan searched for a way out of the base.

***

Exilius never spoke much of his operations, though at her assistance and nagging, he would usually break down and tell Wrath stories. The one she was always drawn to was the story of the first time he served as her bodyguard, and the time he killed the demon. He enjoyed speaking of the battle and the fight, and the victory he claimed over the demon: scourge of the Great Journey. He was genuinely proud of himself. But there was a certain crack in his voice, as he remembered, that implied fear. "The Demon had come close," he explained. "Close to killing me. Close to killing you. It was a battle I am not confident I could win a second time."

Had the Forerunners spared her death at the hand of that demon, only to kill her now? What if this was even the same demon that had sought to kill her? What if it had crawled and clawed its way out of the pits of hell, and now it sought its vengeance. She was not even most worried for herself, but she feared what had happened to Exilius.

The demon gave a hard tug on her arm, dragging her along. The smaller demon at her blindside, occasionally poking her with the muzzle of the SMG. If the demon was aware that Wrath had a translator in her ear, she wasn't sure. He hadn't addressed her, or even spoken to the smaller demon. He just walked, and finally, they were outside.

"Mongrel, can you get in touch with Wolvy?" Nick-047 asked.

Mongrel shook her head.

Nick-047 turned to Wrath, who swallowed nervously. "You can understand me?" he asked.

"Yes," Wrath said. "Can you understand me?"

"Yes. Now that we understand each other," Nick waved his pistol to the back of the jeep. "Get in. You won't be hurt as long as you cooperate. Trust me, the general wants you alive. He annunciates very clearly. Mongrel, you're in with her."

Somewhat awkwardly, Wrath managed to pull herself into the Warthog. It was difficult. The vehicle seemed like it was larger than a tank, and Wrath was not strong enough to pull herself up as effortlessly as a marine might. But she managed, and sat in one of the chairs. The smaller demon came and sat across from her. Wrath's hand brushed the handle of the energy sword in her sleeve, giving her a sense of calm.

***

"You failed in your most sacred duty, Brute," the field master said.

Exilius, who was on his hands and knees, nodded slowly. Hammer lay beside him, helmet in front, and Spiker at the other hand. There were no bindings around his wrist, he hadn't struggled when ordered to appear before the Sangheili commander. "I failed in my most sacred duty," he said. "I failed the Prophetess of Wrath. Even on my knees, I am unfit to draw breath." There was something easy about saying that. Exilius almost thought that the gods would strike him down right there and then, but there was nothing save the heavy heave of Crolunee's breath. Priya, who was standing farther back, clenched her mandible. She had wanted to bring Exilius to his room to rest, but he had refused. Instead, they had searched the base for the prophetess, only to learn that she had been stolen by the demons. And when the field master ordered for his presence, he had gone.

"Stand, chieftain," Crolunee said.

Exilius did as ordered.

"For your crime, you could know the cut of my blade."

"It would be a fate too good for myself."

"No," the field master said, replacing the hilt of his weapon onto his thigh. He had never activated it, actually, only held the handle while he spoke. "This is not the time for moping, this is not the time for punishment, this is not the time to cling to petty feuds and power struggles. If any are to blame for the prophetess' capture, it is myself. This base was under my guard. I was arrogant. I believed the heretics would wait in their base for a noble death. I was a fool who should have sent a second platoon out when you retired."

Exilius' brow lifted. A Sangheili to actually admit a mistake…

"I am going to remedy my mistake, chieftain. I am going to burn the last human stronghold to glass and grind their bones beneath my hoof. You, chieftain. You must remedy your own mistakes."

Exilius was overcome with surprise. Then he nodded. "It shall be done. Ancestors watch over you…field master."

"Ancestors watch over you, chieftain."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Nick-047's HUD marked the LZ was thirty meters away, when he pulled the Warthog to a stop. "Mongrel, take the prisoner out."

Mongrel waved her SMG at the back of the Warthog. Wrath slowly stood up and carefully climbed out of the tall vehicle, gripping the sides of the vehicle and the bars like they were her lifeline. She still fell, and hit the ground hard. Rather awkwardly, she pushed herself up onto all fours, and using her body to block any view, she slipped the handle of her sword out of her sleeve. Mongrel growled, leaping down beside Wrath and pointing the SMG at her, poking her once with the muzzle of the weapon. Wrath bit her lip, rising first to her knees, and then standing slowly, blade's handle kept hidden from view by the underside of her forearm. Mongrel gave an annoyed huff, bouncing from foot to foot in boredom.

Wrath clenched her hand and activated the energy sword, and swung. The sword was much, much smaller than a Sangheili's blade, perhaps better compared to a dagger. But it was concentrated energy, and when she swung upwards, she managed to easily cut through the SMG's front. In shock, Mongrel stumbled back, avoiding injury, but landed on her rump, vulnerable to the second swing. It took Wrath a moment to regain her balance, but then she swung again, hoping to chop the smaller demon's head off. Nick-047 caught Wrath by the wrist. Wrath caught a glance of the armored hand, before it twisted, and a painful shock ran through her body. She screamed, the blade tumbling out of her hand. The safety device activated, and the handle hit the ground harmlessly. Nick-047 tossed the prophetess aside and squatted to check on Mongrel, who pushed him away, growling slightly.

"Calm down," Nick said. He looked over his shoulder to the prophetess, who was lying on the ground, holding her arm. Nick-047 took one of the magnums from his thigh and handed it to Mongrel. "I'm going the rest of the way on foot with the prophetess. Stay hidden. Provide cover is anything goes wrong."

Mongrel took the pistol and nodded slowly.

Taking his other pistol, Nick-047 hoisted the prophetess to her feet and began walking with her, weapon firmly in her ribs. Mongrel retrieved the discarded sword hilt and carefully set it on her belt, if nothing else it would prove a fun souvenir, then scurried into the woods. Her dark armor let her blend in rather well with the shadowy trees, as she watched Nick drag the target along. Mongrel was good at prowling and sneaking and stalking.

Wrath had to bite back another scream when Nick-047 gave a sharp yank, and nearly dislocated her other arm. Did demons not know their own strength? Or did they just not care? Her arm felt broken, but at least it still bent the right way. But she had lost weapon. The gift from Regret. She looked to the Spartan, eyes feeling a bit wet, then looked forward. As the trees parted and they entered a clearing, there was one lone human standing in the center, smoking a cigarette. When Nick-047 cleared his throat, several ODST soldiers popped from the hidden trenches in the ground, and Wrath's heart nearly stopped when she realized how many there were. At least five, that she could see, not counting her demon captor. She swallowed, blinking and clenching to keep her tears at bay.

General Rejwan throw his cigarette away. "Gunny. I said I don't want the Prophet harmed. Why is it holding its arm?"

"She pulled a weapon sir. It was that, or break her neck."

"Well, she's here. Brown, Pink, take her to the ship. I will be coming shortly." Two of the ODSTs came forward, and took Wrath by either arm. They carried her off.

"You did well gunny. Where is your squad though?"

"KIA sir," Nick-047 said casually.

"That's unfortunate," the general said, puffing his cigarette thoughtfully. But they are the expendables, right? Victory is all that matters gunny. Doesn't matter how you get it, as long as you get it."

"Of course general."

"People die gunny. Good people. People who don't have your armor, or your argumentation. But they still march through the fire, bravely, nobly." They're real heroes."

"Yes general…"

The two remaining soldiers turned their shotguns to Nick and squeezed, putting two tandem shots into his chest. It was such a painful impact on his chest, he actually didn't scream, but just fell backwards and landed hard, eyes wide and lungs struggling to work. Amazingly, he had never felt such a force in his life. Covenant weaponry was plasma based, mostly at least. It burned and melted skin instead of cracking bones. This was a new sort of pain, a pain he did not know how to handle, how to distribute, how to deal with.

"Victory at any cost gunny," Rejwan said, drawing his magnum from the side holster. "Something you monsters never really understood." The general pulled the trigger, and shot Nick-047 in the head.

Mongrel swallowed a scream. Her hand shook. She tried to lift magnum, but try as she might, she couldn't line the sights right. She just stared, as the general turned and walked off, followed by the two men with shotguns. Even after they were gone for minutes, she just stared.

Finally having some feeling in her limbs again, she placed the pistol on her thigh and moved forward on all fours. Settling beside Nick-047, Mongrel stared. Leaning forward, she gave him a little push. "…Nick?" Her hands moved to his helmet, and she gradually undid the seal. Then, very slowly, she pulled the helmet off. He had Asian features: tan skin, jet black hair, dark brown eyes. She placed the helmet under his nose, and by the fogging on the cracked visor, she noted he was still breathing. His chest must have been mush, but he had survived the headshot because the bullet had gone into the reinforced black cross brace of his helm. Still, she imagined that Nick would be unconscious for quite a while.

Exilius tracked the Warthog's tracks deep into the woods, and when he finally came to the abandoned vehicle, slowed his Chopper down. Climbing off, and taking his Spiker in hand, he headed forward. He was shocked to see a demon, hovering over a larger demon, but no sign of Wrath. Exilius growled under his breath, walking forward. The smaller demon didn't take notice until he was upon her, and reaching down, took her around the chest. In his life, he had dealt with at least one demon, one mechanical creature and the smaller humans, many, many smaller humans. He had heard screams and shouts from each of those, but he had never heard barking. To his surprise, the small demon made a loud barking noise, squirming and fighting. Angered by the sound, Exilius gave a low growl, looking directly into the white eyes of the monster. Again, Exilius was taken back, as the demon gave not only a growl in return, but a loud snarl.

Exilius perhaps would have twisted the little creatures head off, when his eyes wondered down to the demon's belt, and he noticed Wrath's handle hanging like a war trophy.

Mongrel screamed as the grip on her chest grew tighter, so tight it felt like her organs were going to come out of her mouth. Somehow, in the pain, she fumbled for the pistol still attached to her thigh, and pointed it at the Brute's hand. She squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed, and finally he growled and dropped her.

She had to throw up. She ripped her helmet off and held her chest, before a spill of bile came out of her mouth. Exilius paused, shocked that the demon had taken off…her head? No, he chuckled. No, this was no demon. This was just some sort of make believe demon. And the one on the ground, it wasn't a demon either. Just a human in demon's clothing. But that did not change the fact that they had hurt Wrath. Exilius took his Spiker up and aimed for the smaller demon.

"Wait," she said, looking to him. She pulled the energy blade hilt from her belt, holding it in front of her. "You want this, right? You…you want…you want the prophetess. That's why you're here, isn't it. You want her back? And you can understand me, huh?"

Seeing the hilt, the chieftain stopped advancing, she took that as a yes. "That…General Rejwan. He did this to Nick. He probably got Sparrow and Wolvy and Foxxy and Croc killed just cause he's a greedy prick. Look big guy, I want him dead. Probably more than you want your little prophetess back." She swallowed. "So tell you what, I'll take you to the general, you can go do your big, furry, homicidal Brute thing, and you can have the prophetess back. Deal?"

Exilius looked to the larger, unconscious demon. He aimed his Spiker, but the smaller ran before him. "No, you touch Nick, and I activate my micro-bomb. I die, and you'll never find the general, or your little prophetess. No, bad Brute."

Exilius holstered the Spiker, growling under his breath. Mongrel gave a growl of her own, following after the large creature.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

To say it was awkward was an understatement. The vehicle that the Brute drove only had one seat, and since he didn't seem amused by the offer to run alongside the Chopper as he drove, Mongrel was forced to sit at his front, in his lap. Maybe it could have been worse. It wasn't that bad actually, save that occasionally his heavy breath blew over her head and made her start to sweat. She wished he had let her retrieve her helmet.

"North by north west," she said, then gave a very soft chuckle. "Sparrow dared me to break into ONI's super secret office back on…uh…a planet that will remain nameless. Never thought anything I learned would do me any good. But there's an ONI base on this planet. If Rejwan is still here, then that's where it is."

Exilius grunted.

"About three hundred more meters. Maybe you'll want to cut the engines?"

If anything, the chieftain sped up. Mongrel sighed, wondering if she could pull one of the combat knives from her chest's sheath, but thought better of it. Even if she swung upwards and put a knife beneath his jaw and the penetration killed his brain, they were going several miles an hour, and a crash would undoubtedly kill her. And then no one to kill the general.

Firebase November 4 was located at least seven klicks from any human base, to assure ONI could do their business in private and peace. That's probably why the Covenant had never found the base: it wasn't large or well guarded with towers climbing high to the sky and a dozen Warthogs driving in a circle around the perimeter. It was flat and easily covered by the thick trees. No large generators to cause heat that could be tracked. It was entirely possible that it would have slipped beneath the Covenant's notice until they glassed the entire planet, giving ONI ample time to evacuate resources and important personal. But Mongrel knew where she was going. She had been taught and trained never to forget anything. And she remembered sneaking into ONI's base and learning what she could. After a time, Exilius pulled the Chopper to a stop. He picked Mongrel up and set her down a distance away, before climbing out of the Chopper and following after her.

"Hang on," she said. "ONI codes. Let me get the door." She scurried forward to the building's main entrance, and quickly typed in a code that sent the door creaking and moaning as it opened. Honestly, at that moment, she thought the chieftain would swing his hammer and smash her into a puss. But looking over her shoulder at him, she noticed him merely walk in. It was as if he were in a trance. Rather passively he took the hammer off his back. The ONI soldiers, probably alerted by the opened door, came into the hallway out of doors in the side of the wall. With a roar, Exilius charged forward.

There seemed little doubt that the Jiralhanae would level the entire base. Mongrel watched briefly with a morbid amount of fascination as he swung his hammer madly, stomping heels into torso, reaching out and twisting heads off of shoulders. Like some grand, green monster, pummeling and crushing. There was the rat-a-tat of assault rifles and SMGs, but those lower caliber weapons would probably bounce off his armor. The chieftain just kept forward.

Mongrel really didn't care. Let the Brute stumble and rip through the base. She had other matters to tend to. The chieftain would spend hours and hours ripping everything apart, searching for that one room that held General Rejwan, and probably never find it. Human bases were designed to be confusing and difficult to navigate, not to mention several hallways and doors were purposely quite small, giving the larger Covenant difficulty in getting through. All designed so that the VIPs of a given base would have time to burn any files and escape. Which meant that, more than likely, General Rejwan was headed for the hangar. Typical protocol.

Except for the fact that they had captured a Prophet. The Prophet was too valuable to just up and leave, at least not before interrogation. She growled under her breath. She would have to look through the base to find the general, he could be anyway. Mongrel squatted, and put her fingers into the rungs of an air vent grate. Putting her boot on the wall, she pulled back, and gradually yanked the vent away. She was slightly proud of her strength, and set the grate down against the wall. Lowering to all fours, she scurried into the narrow confines of the vent, disappearing into the darkness after a turn at the corner.

***

There was a very large, orange spike sharply contrasting the black surrounding armor of his chest plate. Exilius approached the human he had made sure just to wound, casually dropping a big foot onto the one of the human's spread legs, earning a loud scream. Twisting his hammer, so the scythe blade was aimed down, Exilius readied a swing. He took a moment, thinking, remembering the word he had heard humans use. He moved his mouth, trying to form his awkward lips into the right shape. Finally, he growled out, "Prophet?"

The human spat a laugh. "You'll kill me if I say or I don't, monkey. Rather go see the saints with some honor intact."

Exilius growled, grinding his heel down, crushing bone slowly, and earning a louder wail. "Prophet?" he asked again.

"Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking Brute! FUCK YOU!"

Exilius sighed and rolled his eyes. This was just boring, and annoying, and he really wanted to find Wrath. Honestly, he would let this human go if it cooperated. He had no interest in killing bugs. He just wanted Wrath. If only he could speak to the human, but the translator in his ear only interpreted their language, it didn't work this other way.

Instead, he simply got angrier, and angrier. His eyes started to glaze over as a show of mounting intolerance. Lifted his foot, he dropped it just between the human's spread legs. The human sat up slightly, a shock and confusion seen through his cracked helmet's visor, until the chieftain lifted one of his toes. He slowly dropped the toe onto the human's groin, and applied pressure. The human screamed and thrashed. Exilius lifted his foot, but when the human didn't give the answer, he dropped his toe again.

"The brig. For fuck's sake, the brig. At the back of the base. Just keep going back you fucking monkey."

Exilius grinned, and took a step back. A moment later, he swung the hammer down, driving the scythe blade through the human's heart. Exilius growled. That whole thing could have been so much easier if the human didn't have to play the tough guy. No time for this, he turned and headed deeper into the base.

***

The low scuttle coming from the roof finally stopped, and Mongrel kicked a foot through the air vent's grate. The grate broke away and tumbled to the ground, making an awful crash. The foot pulled out, and upside down Mongrel hung from the vent, looking around. Without her helmet, she had some trouble seeing, as she was so used to the advanced HUD readouts and enhanced vision to aid her with targeting. But after a moment, she noticed the general casually walking, surrounded by his two bodyguards. Probably going to take stock of the situation, mount the defenses, organize the troops for this stand. Taking hold of the rim of the vent, she pushed herself out, and carefully lowered herself out. Hanging still a moment, she dropped down, noisily hitting the ground on all fours, yet the general didn't seem to notice. She drew the knives from her chest, her "fangs" as she had dubbed them ages ago. Two combat knives, with a black finish that reduced visibility, and kept over her breasts. Knives she had carried with her for what seemed like ages.

Giving a soft growl, she began scurrying forward, nearly on all fours and staying close to the ground. The general and his bodyguards were talking about the evacuation, the general still giving orders about what must be done before the glassing started, what files must be saved and what files can be destroyed. They didn't even notice Mongrel until she jammed one of her blades into the bodyguard on the left, putting it through the small of his back. She had to say, she loved her blades, sharpened so fine they could penetrate even the body armor of ODST's or the little skinsuit of the Covenant.

Twisting to her side, and putting her other arm across her chest, she swung horizontal, and slashed across the second bodyguard's throat, just under the helmet, as he turned to face her. Rejwan turned around, and reached for his pistol. Holding both knives in hand, Mongrel leapt, snarling and barking as she tackled him to the ground. He popped off three shots of the pistol, but Mongrel managed to position herself away from the muzzle. She lifted her knives above her head to jab them down, when the general swung his empty hand and punched Mongrel in the cheek. Again, she missed her helmet. That punch made her dizzy and stunned. Rejwan swung the magnum, and smashed the butt into her temple, and sent her onto her side. She groaned, a throbbing pain in her skull, as the general rolled onto his knees. He swung the gun again to bludgeon her, when Mongrel lifted one of her knives. The general's arm fell onto the blade, the tip slicing neatly under the muscle of his thick bicep. Mongrel barked loudly, and jammed her other knife into Rejwan's belly. Pulling the knife out of his arm, she stuck it into her chest. Then the other knife into his neck, and finally pulled the knife out of his chest and jammed it through his forehead. She gave a little bark and snap of her jaws, holding her blades ready in case he should somehow spring to life.

Happy with her work, she stood, and yanked the knives out. After cleaning them on the dry spots of the general's uniform, she returned them to their place on her chest. With a little spring in her step, she bounced along to towards the hangar. One of the Mongooses would let her ride to her escape. All things considered, it had been a good day.

***

The problem of getting into the brig was solved when Exilius swung his hammer into the door. The door whined and bent inwards, the frame struggling to sustain itself. Being a brig, after all, it was well reinforced. Exilius braced himself, and swung again, and this time the door bent nicely. He used the blades of his hammer to cut and widen a hole that he managed to climb through. It was awkward, and seemed like just another twist of fate that cost Exilius precious moment from finding Wrath. Finally, he was through, and looked to each of the cells for his charge.

"Exi?" Wrath asked, coming to the front door of her cell. She reached out her hand through the bars, trying to alert him to her presence, when she felt a slight squeeze of his large hand.

"Step back," he said softly, and she did, walking to the other wall. She was afraid that he would try to break the door down with several swings of his hammer, which might in turn leave her crushed by the flying door, but no. Instead, he took her blade off his belt and activated it, before carefully pushing it into the door. He moved the blade slow, heating then cutting through the thick metal, until he took it and yanked it out of the way. The door was far, far too small for him to fit through, even if he took off his armor and lowered too all fours. Instead, Wrath ran to him, putting her arms around his thick neck and hanging comically off him like a child. Exilius brought his hands up, returning the embrace and supporting her so she wouldn't fall. "You're not hurt?" he said softly.

"My arm hurts," she said softly. There were other things as well, but what was the point? When she got back to the base she would receive proper medical attention. She just mentioned her arm so that Exilius would take care as he held her.

Exilius shifted her around, and held her, as he turned and climbed out of the door to the brig again, and into the hallway strewn with bodies.


End file.
